BeauxBatons Academy of Magic III
November 21st, 1971
Facing death as a child is like a rite of passage. Everyone sort of remembers the first funerals they attended, or the first time they heard the sad news of someone who died in their family.
Today, it was Agnes's turn. It was a normal afternoon. The day had been rainy and cloudy, and the young witch had played some games with her friends before they returning to class. The remaining lesson was potions, not her favorite. Jeanne was reading her new magazine secretly and Antoine was writing down some ideas for new Qudiditch techniques he would use in his next training. Then, when her mentor had knocked on the door and asked for Agnes, she had first thought she was the luckiest girl in the world.
She had quickly stepped out of the classroom with every eyes on her, wondering where she was being taken.
- We have received a dove from your mother. You are needed as soon as possible at home.
At first, she had not caught on the tone of voice used by the older student. He had patted her shoulder, as if to comfort her. But from what? Agnes instinctively hurried back to her dorms to change into normal clothes and prepared her bag with a few things she would need like her wand, one book on Magical creatures and a few chocolate frogs Jeanne had gifted her after her latest trip to London. She added a few pieces of clothes and her toothbrush.
When she stepped outside of the dorms, an house elf was waiting for her in the corridor. The small creature indicated her to follow him and walked all the way to the school's main entrance. There, was waiting a smaller carriage than the one she was used to take. The house elf gave her a piece of paper and invited her to enter the vehicle. Once she had barely sat on the velvet bench, the carriage flew in the air faster than ever, in direction of the Lenoir's family house.
During the trip, Agnes had opened the small letter she had just received. It was signed by her mother Murielle Lenoir.
My Dear Child,
I hope this letter finds you well. I am writing to you so urgently, I hope you will forgive me.
You already knew your grandfather's health was declining as you have seen last summer. I have been treating him with the best healing spells and reached out to the best doctors but some illnesses seem to be incurable.
Last night, your dear grandfather has passed. I wished to tell you in person, but it is better for you to know before you arrive. I am waiting for you here.
The funerals will be held tomorrow.
Your mother who loves you
M. Lenoir
Tears were already falling down her cheeks, as Agnes was reading the letter a second time to make sure she had understood the message correctly. Such news were unfortunately something the young witch had been expecting since her last visit at the Manoir. Her grandfather had appeared weakened and so fragile compared to the previous summer they had spent together. She knew it was coming, but deep down, she had preferred to avoid thinking of it.
It was weird. She was crying and her heart ached from the sadness, and somehow she felt like she was encountering something new, a new sensation which made her look right into the eyes of mortals' biggest fear: death.
She had arrived in the late evening and the sun had already set. She was tired from the trip and already felt that the atmosphere of her home had changed. There were people she did not know who were talking with her mother, who suddenly rushed to her daughter when she finally penetrated the house, her bag resting on one shoulder. The carriage was already long gone back to Beauxbatons, and the young girl felt as if it was forever ago she was sitting next to her best friend in Potions, checking out news about the Wizard celebrities in her brand new magazine.
She went to sleep early while her mother and the other adults kept talking in the living room downstairs. Agnes felt exhausted. She had talked briefly with some wizards who seemed to be the funerals planners. The next day would require much energy and mental strenght for the young girl. She tried to close her eyes and unexpectedly fell asleep a few moments later.
The funerals were shared with a terrible weather. The rain and the wind had stolen a few hats from some old wizards, and the thunder was overlapping on the speech a man was giving on monsieur Lenoir's merit in his career and passion for the Quidditch. Murielle was weeping silently, and some of her school days friends gathered around her to comfort her. Agnes felt out of place and disliked the eyes of pity on her. Two girls left on their own, they must have thought. The patriarch of the family now gone, Murielle Lenoir would inherit all of his fortune, and had no husband to share it with, only her daughter who was away for the most part of the year.
For one last goodbye, all the wizards present rose their wand up in the air and a strange blurred white light came out, as if to represent the soul reaching up to the sky, leaving its body for good.
Agnes was not crying, but she felt deeply touched. The respectful silence was so peaceful, and her eyes could not leave this mesmerizing light, as it seemed to travel its way up and finally fade into to clouds. Although she did not raise hers, she could feel the magic emaning from the conjured spell.
It was a beautiful day for a funeral.
And like this, Agnes saluted her grandfather one last time. Her mother and her were now the only remaining members of the Lenoir family.
***
January 28th, 1972
- Agnes, ma belle! Yelled Jeanne from the window where she had just opened the curtains.
Agnes lifted the bed sheets from her head, where she had found some comfort from the cold and looked up at her friend.
- It snowed again! We can finally challenge the boys for a Snowball fight tournament!
Agnes felt a sudden fuel of energy rushing through her veins as she stepped out of bed, jumping on her (still sleeping) roommate's to better look at the outside.
- It is time to seek revenge, ma belle Jeanne! She yelled in return, triumphant with her foot stepped on one of her classmates' bottom who was still lying down in bed, pesting against the overly enthusiastic girls.
The girls laughed hysterically before rushing to the bathroom where they prepared for their new mission as fast as possible. The last time it had snowed, Agnes and Jeanne had lost a wizard snowball fight against Pierre and Antoine. The two boys had bragged for days on how -as muggle-borns- they had won against two pure-blood witches. Annoyed by these two 13-year-olds, the girls had decided to challenge them into a no-magic-based snowball fight in order to show them their superior strenght and most certain victory. They had studied the rules of the muggle way of playing and were now sure they would win.
Later that morning, the four friends had gathered in the school gardens with a few more students and had battled for two hours before Pierre and Antoine had finally declared forfeit.
It was a beautiful day. It had snowed and the sun was bright, which added a mystical aspect to the school. Agnes felt really lucky to be attending Beauxbatons, as she was sure was the most beautiful school in the entire world. She loved studying here and would have never traded it for anything else.
She had spent christmas back home, to be with her mother who was busy storing and cleaning the Manoir since her grandfather had passed. Agnes had helped a bit, and had found it entertaining since she had investigated on some old jewelries and clothes from her grandmother hidden in the Master bedroom. She had felt sad everytime she thought of her grandfather, but knew he was now resting with her grand-maman, and it helped raising her mood.
Her friends Jeanne, Pierre, and Antoine had been a big comfort for her when she had to go back to Beauxbatons following the funerals. They had spent hours listening to her and asking her questions, giving her so many sweets she had a stomachache the very next day. She was lucky to have them as friends.
Since the funerals, however, Agnes had started to spend some time alone. She felt the need to reconnect with her thoughts a few times a week. She would walk around the gardens, or sometimes explore the school's maze-like structure. She had found the direct access to the kitchens, a secret passage to the boys dorms and a strange room which seemed to store all of her Potions professor's semi-legal 'ingredients'.
She was having fun discovering new passages and practicing new spells from the book 'The Art of Duelling' she had brought from the manoir's library.
***
April 8th, 1972
Jeanne had subscribed to the Wizard national newspapers as she had found a new passion for politics and wanted to start a career at the French Ministry of Magic. Everyday when her dove brought her the 'quotidien du sorcier', Jeanne would read the headlines out loud so her friends could 'educate themselves on the disturbing changes happening in the wizarding world these days' according to her. But that day, Agnes would take her word for it.
"Last night, a wizard working at Gringotts Bank, London, was attacked by a magical being and claims that important documents and objects from the Head of the Aurors have been stolen from his vault.
This incident is to be added to the lengthening list of attacks which have been occuring for the past two years in Western Europe.
The investigation has linked this robbery to the other case of crimes against the British Ministry of magic, and questions the reliability of Gringotts security of their clients' properties.
Current Hogwarts Headmaster Albus Dumbledore calls out for much precaution among the wizarding community and muggle-borns wizards who seem to be the prey of numberous attacks."
The friends shared a worried look. Pierre and Antoine's faces were whiter than usual. They had put down their piece of bread while listening to Jeanne's reading.
- It is all over the news, my mother called our cousin in Scotland. He said the ministry does not act on anything and keep telling everyone they are handling the situation, but Dumbledore has started to speak out, which means it is getting serious. Said Jeanne calmly, with a serious expression.
A silence had taken place among the friends. Their school life at Beauxbatons seemed so dreamy and far from the reality. Agnes' first two years and now third had been magical and so enriching in terms of education and friendships. She looked down at her unfinished plate where she had dropped a bit of tea on her fork.
Everything seemed so simple here. Yet, they were growing into teenagers and sooner or later, they would not be able to avoid facing the truth. The Wizarding world was not at peace anymore. The silent kept on going for a few more instant.
- Who's Deumbleudore? asked Pierre